Darkness Rises
by kungfoogirl
Summary: A little postOOTPpreHBP story about Neville Longbottom. Some people are never what you expect them to be. Was a oneshot, now expanded. Rated T for language.
1. Planning

**Author's Notes**: Slightly spoilery! Takes place AFTER Order of The Phoenix, but before Half-Blood Prince. Neville Longbottom ponders his place in life, and his transition into manhood.

Neville moved silently between the long, low tables of the greenhouse. He breathed deeply, and let his lungs fill with the damp, earthy air. Most of the other students hated the smell of the Herbology department greenhouses; a fact that wasn't entirely perplexing to the young Gryffindor. After all, Dragon Dung fertilizer isn't the most pleasant of aromas. But for him, it was the smell of comfort, success and self-esteem.

This is where Neville finally felt at ease. He wasn't awkward or clumsy here. He never dropped his equipment or tripped over hoses. Working with the plants filled him with confidence. Granted, it had taken him a while to hit his stride, but by his 3rd year, Neville excelled at Herbology. Not even the flawless Hermione Granger got better marks in class than Neville. A point that he took great pains to keep quiet.

Some students are loud and boisterous about their successes. But Neville had so few of them, he chose to savor them in private, where they were incorruptible. If people like Draco Malfoy don't know about his passion, then they can't destroy with teasing or trickery. If it remained a secret, it couldn't be taken from him.

But the boy had faith that it wouldn't always be necessary to hide his talent and passion.

After suffering some rather serious injuries at the Ministry of Magic, Neville was a little braver and little more competent than before. He supposed that facing the worst of Lord Voldemort's Deatheaters, and surviving was bound to give a chap a bit of a boost to the ol' self-esteem!

Come to think of it, that was the day Neville stopped thinking of himself as a _boy_, a child, and started honestly considering himself a **man. **And what a spectacular coming-of-age it was! So many grown adults, talented wizards all of them, had faced the same set of circumstances and died in the process. Just look at his own parents. No matter how brave and worldly they were, LeStrange seemed to have little trouble torturing them into insanity. Neville was determined to make sure he didn't meet the same fate himself.

Towards the back of the greenhouse, stood a row of metal school lockers. Each one had a little slot where Professor Sprout could slip in a piece of parchment with a students name. The fourth locker from the wall had a small plaque with Neville's name on it. He skirted the mandrake plants, not wanting to wake them, and approached his locker. "_Alohamora!_" he whispered. The door slid open, as it would only do for Neville. He smiled a crooked smile. The locking spell had been his idea. It was fairly simple, even if he did need a little help rom Hermione. Every year, Professor Sprout would assign the lockers to students that needed them, and after she set the spell, only the student to whom the locker was assigned could open it. It was one of Neville's proudest achievements, if that's saying much.

It was fortunate that he was the only one able to open his locker. The contents would surely betray the darker, more sinister side of his personality. Normally a quiet and shy bloke, Neville found that it wasn't talent or intelligence that he lacked. His D.A. participation certainly proved that. Harry, who had become Neville's most trusted friend in recent months, said that he was incredibly impressed. Neville couldn't imagine any higher praise.

Speaking of Harry, Neville thought that Ginny Weasley was a lucky girl. It seemed plain as day to him that Harry and Ginny would one day be together as long as Harry got smart before some other chap turned Ginny's head. Neville hoped that, someday, he'd find someone as perfect as Harry. After spending so many days alone, missing his parents, it would be nice to have a home again.

He sighed, and removed a heavy canvas tarp from his locker. Hiding under it, was a small, bulby, purple plant with deep waxy green leaves. It's pot was barely larger than a teacup. The bulb in the middle of the plant moved a bit, and made a high pitched growling noise. It knew that being removed from the darkness of the locker meant that food and water would be in short order. Neville removed a small bit of roast beef from his bag and held it out in front of the plant. Suddenly a long dark tentacle erupted from the plant, and wrapped around the meat. With a quick tug, the tentacle pulled the food towards it gaping maw. Several rows of tiny razor like teeth could be seen before the plant closed around it's supper.

The plant was terribly rare, and even more dangerous. It was, strictly speaking, against Ministry Of Magic rule to own it. However, restrictions on certain plants were rarely enforced because the Ministry never imagined that anyone would ever be able to cultivate them. This plant in particular was terribly difficult to care for, and it thrives under rather specific conditions. This was the third time Neville tried to grow one, and he was getting better with each subsequent attempt.

Of course, the plan was to someday capture Bellatrix LeStrange and feed her to his little beast of a plant. The Death-Eaters would pay for the life-time of suffering they've caused him. They'd pay for the deaths and insanity. Neville was determined to avenge his parents. They brought him into this world, and it was his duty to see that justice was served. It would be his contribution to the Order.

And when that was done, maybe he'd finally be able to live a normal life. He wanted to experience the **other **end of the range of human emotion. Finish school. Fall in love. Have a family. Smile, for once in his life.

He placed the plant back in the locker, gave it a few drop of a growth potion, and covered it with canvas again.

As he closed the locker door, he finally broke the silence.

"We can do this, you foul little thing. You're every bit as vile as I'd read. And me? I'm not your average horti-fucking-culturist."


	2. Hiding

The heavy glass door to the greenhouse closed behind Neville with a  
solid, satisfying "thunk!". His heavy boots landed loudly on the worn  
and ancient stone stairs. When he reached the first landing, he  
paused to readjust his bag on his shoulder. The strap was digging in  
deeply, and he knew he'd wind up with a blister if he didn't fix it  
now.

Below him, a door opened and loud, rowdy voices echoed up the  
stairwell. The list of people whose company Neville could tolerate at  
the moment was very short indeed. And he knew for a fact that all of  
them were currently sitting in the great hall having dinner. He paused  
for a moment so see if he could identify the voices before finding an  
alternate route down to the Great Hall.

"…can't believe it's been like that all summer! My father says that…"

It was Malfoy. And that meant the other two voices undoubtedly belong  
to Crabbe and Goyle, the great oafs. He certainly didn't want to run  
into them. Since the incident at the Ministry of Magic, that trio of  
troublemakers took every available opportunity to hex, curse, taunt  
and harass anyone they thought ran in the same circles as Harry  
Potter. Neville, of course, was on their hit list.

He quietly slipped through the door to his right, found himself at the  
very end of a long, dark, narrow corridor barely wide enough for the  
door to swing all the way open. He slowly closed the door behind him  
and was pleased when it silently slid into place. With Filch on his  
usual crusade even the slightest transgressions, Neville didn't think  
it would be wise to wander the corridors. Unsure of where this  
particular one led, Neville decided the best thing to do was to stay  
put until Malfoy and his gang passed, and then quietly make his way  
down the stairs. The doors in the stairwell were made of thick oak  
and didn't make eavesdropping very easy. Fortunately, the Slytherins  
were not big on stealth and subtlety.

Over the summer, he'd spent a great deal of time at Grimmauld place,  
at Dumbledore's request. Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and  
Neville had all taken Defense Against The Dark Arts lessons from  
Lupin. When they weren't in "class", they were to practice under  
Harry's guidance. In the little spare time they had, they were to  
help the Order by cleaning the many, many rooms of the Black house and  
to run errands for the members of the order. They were kept busy and  
safe. The summer flew by faster than any of them wished. 12  
Grimmauld Place was comfortable and secure. Being surrounded by so  
many people they knew they should trust was a welcome change.

Not to mention the fact that being so busy made it easier for all of  
them to deal with the loss of Sirius. Lupin and Harry took it  
particularly hard.

One of the many tricks Neville learned was from Fred and George.  
They'd given him a small stash of Extendable Ears, which made it  
particularly easy to listen for approaching professors and students.  
Neville reached into his bag and started searching for a pair in case  
he needed use them to be certain the coast was clear.

Based on the sounds coming from the stairs, it was evident that the  
coast was very much not clear. Loud, lumbering footsteps thundered  
through the stairwell. Malfoy was still railing against something or  
other as they climbed the stairs. It sounded as if they were  
approaching the landing just below where Neville had tucked himself  
away.

With all the noise from the stairwell, he didn't notice caretaker  
Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, until he felt her brush past his leg.  
Apparently, she felt he looked suspicious and was intent on letting  
him know it. Thinking a little nudge with tip of his boot would  
convince her otherwise, he gave her a little push back down the hall.  
Apparently, that was all the evidence she needed and with a swish of  
her tail, she trotted on off to inform Filch that something untoward  
was happening. She let out a loud and defiant meow.

"Silencio!", Neville whispered. Confused, Mrs. Norris kept trying in  
vain to meow. Her mouth moved, but not so much as a peep came from  
her. Neville sighed in relief. He'd had a bit of trouble with that  
charm, he'd struggled with it most of the summer. Hermione was  
finally able to help him get the hang of it. Without her meows  
echoing through the halls, she would have to go find Filch and lead  
him to Neville. She slinked off around the corner, her mouth still  
moving. The charm was temporary, and no one on the grounds knew the  
school's passageways better than Mrs. Norris and Argus Filch. Neville  
had only bought himself a few minutes.

He was debating which was worse, Filch or Malfoy, when he heard Malfoy just outside the door.

"Look, I already explained this to you both. Are you completely  
stupid, or just mostly? My father has a plan, on You-Know-Who's  
orders. Don't worry about how he's getting messages to me while he's  
in Azkaban. Just do what I tell you, alright?" Malfoy paused for a  
moment. "Now, wait here while I get these seeds from Sprout's office.  
Father said to make sure no one saw, so keep a sharp eye out."

He heard Malfoy climb the last few stairs up to the greenhouse door.  
He knew it would be locked. Hopefully, Malfoy would be deterred  
enough to simply leave. Then he would simply wait for them to descend  
the stairs again, and he'd be home free.

"Shit," he heard Malfoy say.

"Whut?"

"It's locked. Dammit." He heard Malfoy join Crabbe and Goyle just  
outside the door. Neville tried to make himself as small as possible,  
squashed into the corner just beside the doorway. He had a bad feeling  
about this.

"Ew. This stairway smells like Dragon Dung. Let's cut through here."  
He held his breath as the door opened and Malfoy stepped through,  
followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was off on his rant again about  
Dumbledore before he'd even fully crossed the threshold. Far too  
self-absorbed, Malfoy didn't notice Neville standing in the corner.  
As for Crabbe and Goyle, they were far too oblivious to notice a  
mountain troll, let alone a quiet Gryffindor.

Neville grabbed the door before it could close. As he slipped through  
the doorway, he heard Mrs. Norris' blood-curdling yowl, and Filch  
yelling for Malfoy and his gang to stay right where they are.

"Running is no use boys! I've already seen who ye are. My my!  
Dumbledore will love this!" Flitch sounded positively delighted to  
have caught them in the act. Neville wasn't sure what it was they  
were in the act of, but he was sure Filch thought it was an offense  
worth of expulsion.

The rest of Filch's speech was cut off by the door, and Neville quietly descended the stairs. Never in his wildest dreams did Neville expect to be grateful for Crabbe and Goyle's propensity to be very large, but in this case, it has served him well. There was no way that Filch could have seen Neville's escape with such hulking boys in the way.

Neville rushed across the grounds to the Great Hall, where the rest of his friends were. He had to warn them that Malfoy was up to something.

Revenge is something Neville felt he could, and if fact should, handle on his own. But it was a different matter all together if Lucius Malfoy was using his rat-fink son to carry out You-Know-Who's plans within the walls of Hogwarts.

He was certain that Hermione and Harry would know what to do.


End file.
